The sunlight coming in through the café's windows is dim, and you can't really say it floods the space. It's more like a lazy stream. In contrast, the light provided by Saturn itself is warm and almost grain-colored. If the lights in the café are turned off, the atmosphere can be a little trippy. It is a pleasant and calming light, but nothing to count on the passing of the day.
Everyone keeps telling me to get used to it, so I'm doing my best. In the meantime, I'm building routines in other ways. Cleaning seemed simple enough. Even in my climate-controlled, pressurized room, dust still manages to float around. Peeking under the bed revealed a community of dust bunnies living there. Let’s get to work.
In the café, there is a helpful and handy lady named Mrs. M, who is like a Jill-of-all-trades. She can fix minor problems on spaceships, prepare dishes when Cook is away, and keep the place clean. I haven't met her yet, but when I asked for a vacuum cleaner, Babaru gave me a brief introduction and showed me where the apparatus was located.
It was strange seeing a space suit and a cabinet full of odd tools right next to a tidy corner stocked with cleaning supplies. All this in the same closet. I swore I wouldn't break the vacuum. If only I had also understood not to break the galactic peace. The events that followed were in no way Babaru's fault. She was just locating the device I needed. My friend couldn't have known I had inadvertent murderous intentions. I didn't know that myself, either.
I had finished cleaning and was sitting happily eating a meal bar imported from Greece. The vacuum cleaner was slowly cooling down on the floor next to me. The scent it left in the air was strangely pleasant. It wasn't the dusty, musty smell left behind by similar devices on Earth. But my snack break didn't last long when I heard banging and shouting coming from the hallway.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
I was already feeling much more confident about my safety, so I opened the door to see what had caused the ruckus. The hallway was swarming with strange-looking people... creatures... or heck, I don't even know what to call them. Four of them burst onto my floor with heavy equipment. They literally ducked under my arm. If they'd been one second slower, that battering ram would've crushed my gut.
I recognized the metallic shuffle of Babaru's feet even before she appeared in the hallway. The arrival of the galactic rescue team on an urgent mission to the café came as a surprise to everyone. Fortunately, my translator friend was quick-thinking and understood the reason almost immediately. This saved Mrs. M's vacuum cleaner from being completely destroyed. All I had to do was empty the dust bag onto my freshly cleaned floor. A group of dazed-looking dust bunnies emerged from the dirt.
The universe continues to amaze me, and today's events show that this will not change anytime soon. Winston says it's been a long time since the galactic rescue team visited for anything other than relaxation. In previous years, Café Stardust was a much more turbulent place. Nowadays, the café that serves as my home is a true haven of peace.
Underneath my bed, conditions were perfect for a population of dust bunnies. In their pure form, they are a kind of energy. Perhaps souls or something similar. I can't describe it any better than that, because no one else seems to know much more about it. But when dust bunnies souls find a suitable place, such as the dust heaps under my bed, they materialize into them and begin to live in this form.
And then I went to vacuum them up. Thank goodness this species is tough. And also thank goodness the galactic rescue team is quick to respond to alarms. I don't know what device the dust bunnies used to raise the alarm, but maybe that’ll be revealed someday.
Since the vacuum cleaner proved to be a weapon in the wrong hands, Winston brought me a mop. I intend to use it often enough to ensure that the peace of my room remains undisturbed and that no uninvited guests come under my bed. Or somebody tries to ram my door down.
Till next time.
- Johnny